


I Would Give You The Stars (A Story Goes Untold)

by Krasimer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, All is not lost, Bilbo and Thorin find each other again, Character Death Fix, Frodo is Bilbo and Thorin's Child, Happy Ending, M/M, So long as there is love, Sort Of, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 00:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: "I told you once that I had one more story to still tell you. There is still a story that you must know."Coming to a bench, they sat down, Bilbo smiling gratefully at his nephew."I remember." Frodo looked out at the rest of the garden. "I always thought that it had something to do with the letters you used to receive, the ones from the Dwarven messengers. Was I right?""Yes and no." Bilbo sighed, rubbing at his brow. "There are things that are complicated to explain, things that will never make sense unless you know the story in full. I hate to bring up something that made you so sorrowful, but it is about your parents."





	I Would Give You The Stars (A Story Goes Untold)

When Bilbo Baggins returned from his grand adventure, he came carrying a fauntling that had not yet seen its first change of season.

The little fauntling had dark hair, out of place amongst even the darkest haired of the Shire. His eyes were a deeper blue than the sky itself. Even at such a young age, it was easy to see that he would be a well built Hobbit.

Upon his return, Bilbo Baggins wept.

The child was his, and the other parent was someone he kept unnamed. Someone that he had met on his adventure away from home. He told no one of the child's other parent, told of no beautiful lass whose features would fill the gaps between knowledge in. No lad was named who might have sired or birthed the child.

Bilbo Baggins kept the child for only a short time.

Upon the marriage of Primula and Drogo Baggins, when he went to wish them well, he took the odd little fauntling with him. When he left their newly wedded home that day, he was alone.

And so, Frodo Baggins was written down in the official book of Bagginses.

The Shire watched him grow up. Before he was considered an adult, his parents drowned in a boating accident.

First sent to the Took's, to live with them and grow, then shifted to his Bilbo's home, he approached adulthood with a tendency towards stubbornness and unyielding resolve. Despite being raised around plenty of other Hobbits his own age, Frodo was a serious fauntling. The occasional prank being met with only pitying glances and wry smiles.

When Gandalf made a reappearance in Bilbo's life, and they started speaking to each other for lengths of time behind locked doors...

Bilbo would reappear after those sessions, face lined with worry until he looked aged beyond his years.

Over the years, there had been an occasional messenger.

A dwarf would show up on their doorstep, around the same time each year, bearing a message written in shaky Westron. Frodo never got the chance to read the letters, seeing as Bilbo would disappear into his own room with them, rejoining the world hours later. His eyes would be dark and he wouldn't smile for a few days afterward.

 

XxXxX

 

One day that Frodo remembered very clearly was a letter arriving, as per usual.

His uncle's reaction made him shudder from the memory of it. Bilbo had taken the letter, opened the wax seal, and started reading on his way to his room. He had not taken more than five steps from the door when he fell to his knees, eyes wide. Not knowing what to do, Frodo cautiously stepped forward and softly lay a hand on his uncle's shoulder.

The letter was shaking in Bilbo's hands, so hard that Frodo wasn't able to read much of it. A few words stuck out, disjointed and unconnected to each other. A name struck him, written in tear smudged ink and in very different writing than all the previous letters.

Whoever had written this letter wrote in a much heavier hand.

The name was odd, but by Dwarven standards, he guessed it was typical. A thickly drawn 'B' made him try to look closer. Without allowing for a closer look, Bilbo shook his head and tucked it into his pocket.

"No need for you to read of sad things, M'boy." he muttered, tucking the dark curls at the edge of Frodo's face behind his ear. "Especially when they don't concern you."

He stood on shaky legs, pulling his waistcoat straighter around him, tugging at the hair that hung over the edge of his collar. Closing his eyes for a moment, Bilbo breathed deeply, trying to calm himself.

"Uncle?"

His eyes opened quickly, the warmth they normally held quickly cooling. "Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

Bilbo smiled, leaning over to pat Frodo's head. "The past insists on haunting me. It'll be alright, Frodo. I will tell you someday, but that day is not this one."

With a nod, he gently tweaked Frodo's nose and wandered off to his room.

 

XxXxX

 

It isn't until he is thrown headfirst into the journey to destroy the ring that he realizes Bilbo never told him the story of the letter that made his uncle startle so worryingly.

They're sitting around a small fire, him, Sam, Merry, Pippen, and a stoically silent Aragorn, and he's trying to think of anything but the perilous task that lies before him. Sam is sitting at his side, trying to comfort him without being obvious about it. Merry and Pippen are trying to distract the group with their increasingly silly antics, and Aragorn is watching them all, his brow raised like he has a question to ask but doesn't quite know how to phrase it.

Frodo looks into the bed of the small fire, trying to clear his mind of the danger ahead and the fear in his heart.

The ring is strangely comforting on the chain around his neck, but beyond that, he can feel it urging him onwards. He can feel it pulling him away from the safety of home and towards the almost certain death that he will face when he goes to destroy it.

"Mister Frodo," Sam whispers to him in the dark, leaning in closer. "You're bein' awfully quiet."

With a strained smile, Frodo nods. "I'm thinking of Bilbo."

"What, you mean how he went and disappeared like that? Me da was all worried over that. Gave him a fright it did!" Sam smiled, broad and reassuring in the night. Just seeing the happiness that his friend was showing eased some of the fear that Frodo was carrying. "Me mum just about had a fit!"

Chuckling, Frodo leaned in and nudged his forehead against Sam's shoulder. "I was just thinking about how he said that there was a story he would tell me." Shrugging, he rolled his neck around and sighed. "I hadn't yet reached adulthood. There was a letter from a Dwarven messenger, and he looked afraid when he read it. Fearful and saddened, like he had been told of the world's end."

"I remember those blokes..." Sam thought for a moment, "They used to come each year before they stopped arriving. Used to send the entirety of Hobbiton twitterin'."

"They did." Frodo smiled again, the icy dread around his heart ebbing slightly. "They used to trample Uncle's garden."

Then Aragorn was shushing them and making them sleep, pulling their few belongings together for a quick start at first light.

 

XxXxX

 

In Rivendell, running into Bilbo again felt at odds with how he was sure the world worked.

Walking with him in the gardens, neither of them spoke for a time. Finally, Bilbo broke the silence by clearing his throat. "I told you once that I had one more story to still tell you. There is still a story that you must know."

Coming to a bench, they sat down, Bilbo smiling gratefully at his nephew.

"I remember." Frodo looked out at the rest of the garden. "I always thought that it had something to do with the letters you used to receive, the ones from the Dwarven messengers. Was I right?"

"Yes and no." Bilbo sighed, rubbing at his brow. "There are things that are complicated to explain, things that will never make sense unless you know the story in full. I hate to bring up something that made you so sorrowful, but it is about your parents."

Blinking slowly, Frodo looked at him, lips parted. "My parents?"

"Your paren-"

Frodo was suddenly being pulled away, Merry and Pippen having come out of nowhere and yanked him off the bench.

"Merry! Pippen! The both of you!"

Bilbo laughed, eyes closing from his mirth. "You go. I will tell you later. The story can wait still a little longer."

Rivendell was a distant memory by the time Frodo realized Bilbo had never actually told him the story he was promised.

 

XxXxX

 

Frodo had caught up to him on the journey to the Grey Havens, Bilbo looking younger than Frodo could remember him looking. The ship had familiar faces aboard it, and Frodo smiled when Lord Elrond greeted him.

"You were going to tell me a story once. You said it was about my parents."

Bilbo, youthful face rounded and rose colored, looked at him and sighed. "You must believe me, I never meant to keep it from you for this long. It has been far too many years gone by and you still are unaware of the truth."

"And what truth is that?"

Closing his eyes, tugging at the hair hanging over the edge of his collar, Bilbo shrugged helplessly. "Your parents were not your parents."

"What do you mean?" Frodo placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, trying to regain his attention. "Uncle?"

"I am not your uncle, Frodo M'boy." Bilbo looked out over the railing of the ship, at the water rushing by, at anything other than Frodo. "You are my only son, the heir to all that I owned."

Shocked, Frodo let his hand fall, eyes wide. "You..."

"Your father is a Dwarf who died, long ago, in a battle wherein he tried to save his own life." Bilbo gripped the fabric of his pants tightly, tears making their trail down his face. "You are, by all rights except the ones that are marked in historical volumes, the true heir to the King under the mountain."

"A Dwarf?" Frodo tugged Bilbo's sleeve, trying to get him to meet his eyes. "Is that the reason for the messengers to the Shire each year?"

"Yes. When they stopped, it was because the one Dwarf who decided I was worth communicating with had passed away. He was one of the ones leading an attempt to reclaim Moria. His name was B-"

"Balin."

Bilbo looked at him then, his own eyes wide. "How?"

"I traveled with a Dwarf named Gimli. He was the son of a Dwarf named Gloin, nephew to Oin." Frodo let a small smile appear on his face. "I never did tell you of my own travels."

"You will have to eventually." Bilbo nodded, tears still running down his face. "I do apologize for not telling you earlier. I am aware that I should have. The pain of losing him and looking at you while you looked so much like him...It was too much. I could not stand it. I passed you to my cousin Drogo, with his new wife Primula. They had been having trouble bringing about a child, so I gave them you."

"They raised me." frowning, Frodo looked down at his knees, bringing them to his chest. "And when they passed away, you raised me as your nephew. You never told me, you never told anyone else in the Shire. I was marked as a Baggins."

With a quickly paling face, Bilbo nodded. "Yes."

"Who am I really?"

"The direct descendant of the King under the Mountain. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, of the line of Durin the Deathless. The line brought to ruin by a lust for gold, a stubbornness against compromise, an unwillingness to admit to wrongdoings, and a dragon." Bilbo tucked the hair hanging in his face behind his ear. "I half wish that I had left you to be brought up in that world. You would never have been placed into the danger that you must have faced along your journey. I apologize for that as well."

"And the Son of a King should meet his father."

Both of the Hobbits turned towards the one who had spoken, Bilbo smiling when Elrond took the seat next to them.

Looking between the both of them, Frodo tilted his head. "What was he like?"

"Stubborn. Bullheaded. The most infuriating creature I have ever dealt with." Bilbo tangled his fingers together. "The most wonderful person I can think of."

The ship was slowing now, coming to a halt as it reached the shore.

"Do you want to meet him?" Elrond looked over the railing, towards something on the land. "Because it seems like the company of Thorin is waiting for someone."

 

On the shore, Ori stood with a hand raised to catch the attention of the hobbits on board, a grin on his face.

Next to him, Kili and Fili were wrestling, Fili's arm around Kili's neck, neither of them watching where their limbs were flailing. Oin would occasionally shove an elbow away from himself, rolling his eyes. Balin stood at Oin's side, chuckling every time the princes would nearly fall over.

The ship docked, and Elrond led the hobbits down, one of them familiar and the other not.

Bilbo came to them first, exchanging hugs with all of them, pausing to knock Fili and Kili apart, an arm around each of them. When he got to Oin, he pointed towards the other hobbit.

"Ask him about your brother if you wish to know. He knows some things about Dwalin as well."

In between curious glances at the younger hobbit, Ori blushed.

"Who is he, lad?" Balin looked between the two. "He looks an awful lot like yeh."

Bilbo's face turned red, his gaze falling to his feet. "I've kept something from him, and I shouldn't discuss this with anyone until I see..."

"Ah." Balin nodded sharply, turning to point to a tree some distance behind them. "He doesn't quite believe us when we say yeh'd made yehr peace with him on his deathbed. If yeh'd please resolve this matter, I think everyone involved would be much happier."

With a shrug and a soft chuckle, Bilbo gestured to Frodo and began the short trek to where Thorin, the once King Under The Mountain, stood.

"Bilbo."

Frodo's eyes widened, his hands curling around the edge of his shirt. The voice of the dwarf seemed to echo, even in the vast plains of the Haven.

"Thorin." Bilbo smiled, and it struck Frodo then that it was the first real smile he had seen on the elder hobbit's face. "I've been told that you don't believe that we fixed our relationship."

The dwarf bowed his head, face kept carefully neutral as he focused on the ground. "It didn't seem possible. Considering how I treated you, it seemed an impossibility that you would even want to see me here."

"What happened?" Frodo looked between the two of them. "How did you treat him?"

With a jump, Thorin looked at him like he hadn't seen him before. "Who are you, might I ask?"

"I am Frodo Baggins, of the Shire." Frodo unwrapped his hands from his shirt, smoothing out the material quickly before offering his hand to the Dwarf. "I have heard tales of you and your company since I was but a fauntling."

"Then you should know how I treated him."

Frowning, Frodo shook his head. "In the stories, you were always valiant and brave, strong and romantic. No one goes to save their lost kingdom from a dragon that has it in a chokehold and has had it for nearly a century, without being a romantic. You were always the hero. Bilbo made you sound like such a hero that my friend, my best friend, Sam would run around and pretend to be you." Frodo gave Thorin a smile when the King's jaw dropped. "He would run around and demand that any dragons in attendance show themselves and kindly fly off."

"Bilbo is an excellent story teller." Thorin murmured, gaze shifting to the older Hobbit. "Even if he does twist the story about. I treated him with malice and hatred when I should not have. I treated him as if he did not matter to me."

"What is he to you then?"

"He is my One." Thorin kneeled at the base of the tree, leaning back into the bark. "I would apologize for an eternity if he would but let me. I suspect he will not."

"You are damn right that I will not." Bilbo made a face and braced both of his fists on his hips. "You have nothing more to apologize for."

"I hurt you in ways that I-"

"You were sick!" Bilbo groaned, one hand going to cover his eyes. "You were affected by the gold sickness that ran in your family, you snapped back out of it before you died."

"I freed myself far too late. By the time I was myself, you and I were damaged."

Bilbo shook his head, walking over to Frodo and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I raised your child after your death. He was born in one of the traditional ways of the Shire. He was born on the journey back home for me. He is your son and your heir. If I had been less afraid, I would have left him with the Dwarven brethren I left behind when you passed."

Thorin's eyes were wide, his back straight now as he took in Bilbo's face. "You..."

"Meet Frodo. He is your son." Bilbo pressed softly on his son's shoulder. "I told him the tales with my opinion in them because I couldn't bear the thought of him despising you. I never did, and to have your child do so would have broken me."

With a grunt, Thorin climbed to his feet, stepping forwards until he was toe to toe with Frodo. "You bore my child?"

"It was something I was going to tell you, but then..." Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck. "The battle happened, and I wasn't a young hobbit when you met me. I doubted the child would survive. Much less that I would survive the battle."

When Thorin didn't answer, he shrugged. "Then I did, and you were dying and I was going to tell you, but you wouldn't let me speak. You apologized for things that no longer mattered if indeed, they ever did."

"And you bore my child." Thorin was looking awestruck, hand hovering a few scant inches from Frodo's cheek. "What happened to bring him here?"

"I brought the ring that Bilbo took from Gollum to Rivendell. From there, it had to be taken to Mordor." Frodo smiled. "I had Sam along with me the entire way. In Rivendell, I met a dwarf named Gimli. He was the son of Gloin. I also met Bombur."

"They are doing well, then." Thorin smiled.

"They are." Frodo looked at Bilbo, then back to Thorin. "Who were the two dwarves when we arrived here? They were wrestling, almost as if they meant to damage each other."

Thorin put a hand to his eyes, sighing. "You must mean Fili and Kili. They are my nephews, and they always act as if they mean to damage each other, even in a play of combat."

Frodo looked between the two older beings, then nodded. "I will go introduce myself, I think."

Bilbo watched as Frodo walked off towards the rest of the dwarves. "I do believe that he caught on as quickly as you might."

"I would say that he more closely reflects your intelligence." Thorin murmured, running his fingers through Bilbo's curls and dragging him closer until their brows touched. "I was never smart enough to realize what had happened until after it had happened and every other blasted person knew it."

"It is not your fault," Bilbo whispered.

Thorin shrugged off his coat, laying it out on the grass. With a soft push to Bilbo's chest, he allowed himself to tumble to the ground, curled around the hobbit. "I wish I had been around to see you and our son."

"I only raised him once my cousin and his wife passed away." Bilbo closed his eyes, voice catching in his throat. "He looked far too much like you, even as a babe, and it broke my heart every time I saw him. I would find myself turning to call out to you, even as I grew older."

Thorin didn't speak, just twined their fingers together and pressed his lips to Bilbo's cheek.

"I wrote letters, sometimes. I addressed them to Balin, but I never did send them. Afterwards, he was the only one of the company who felt the need to contact me. The rest would be mentioned in his letters, but they would never send me any." Bilbo turned so that he was pressed against Thorin's shoulder, the Dwarf's hair tangling into his own. "The day that he went off to Moria was a sad one indeed. Dwalin wrote and explained that he would write if he could spare the time, but Balin would not be writing to me for a while. Perhaps even years."

"They abandoned you," Thorin growled, wrapping a hand around Bilbo's waist, clenching tightly at the fabric of his coats.

"Balin explained it once." Bilbo shook his head. "He said that they were ashamed of how they had acted in your defense, even when it was clear that I was being the reasonable one of us two. I set out for Erebor, once. I never did make it."

"If you are tired, my Burglar, then you should sleep," Thorin smirked when Bilbo yawned and glared at him reproachfully. "We will see them again one day."

"I don't know what I am to do with you, my King," Bilbo muttered, pushing himself up and kissing him fiercely.

**Author's Note:**

> Still going through my files. Found an old Hobbit fanfic, dusted it off to post it.


End file.
